Love Of A Lifetime

by Murphy, Riley

  Damn —he sat up—he hated feeling nervous. “Don’t you remember anything of what we are to one another? Was it really that painful?”

  Completely misinterpreting his question, or had she, he wondered? She emphatically made her point when her accusing gaze landed on the blood-speckled sheets between them. “You tell me.”

  The silence was tense while both of them solemnly stared down at the burnished flecks until finally Jack shattered it with a long and weary sigh. “Now, I can tell you many things about this.” He warmed to the subject as he placed a palm on the mattress before circling his hand lovingly over the stains. “But none of what I’d have to say about it would include the word ‘painful’ when describing what we just did.” Her glare was impressive so he decided to ignore it. “My narrative about the act would go something like: She was hot, panting, and horny when she was fucking my tongue.”

  She didn’t quite gasp as it sounded more like a choke while her expression went from shocked, to stricken, to finally, murderous. “You—you made me that way.”

  He bit back a smile and inclined his head, attempting to be humble. A compliment, left-handed or not, was still a compliment.

  “That is to say, you made me feel things and want to do things—”

  “I do my best.”

  “Oh, you know what I’m trying to say, you devil. You hypnotized me.” She looked so flustered as she stuffed a chunk of her hair behind an ear and scowled, that he chuckled.

  “It’s not funny. You took advantage of me.”

  “So that’s what they’re calling it these days, hmm...?”

  “Oh, go to hell.”

  She was adorable when she was mad. All huffy and flushed. He studied her profile when she refused to look at him. No doubt plotting a way to escape, but he wasn’t going to let that happen as she was here to stay. Eyeing her beautiful skin aglow in the light of the fire gave him a sense of satisfaction he hadn’t felt in… “Damn, but I've missed you, gorgeous. I’m glad that you’re mine once more.”

  “Hey,” She turned back, speculatively eyeing him, “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “You talk all weird sometimes. Formal Heathcliffy one moment, and then, you know,” she shrugged, “normal guy the next.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Oh, come on. And I quote, ‘Once you are in the sanctuary of my embrace you will be blah, blah, blah.’”

  It was his turn to speculatively eye her. He didn’t like the way she mimicked his voice either. He didn’t sound like Pee-Wee Herman. “It really is rather amazing how one can selectively remember only the good things about a person when they’re gone.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’d quite forgotten all about your sharp little tongue.” He really hadn’t as her patented feistiness was a trait he loved in her, but he didn’t want her to know too soon. Because once she did, she always managed to use it to her best advantage when she wanted something. “Even faced with that barbed appendage I’m still glad you’re here.”

  “You see? Another Heathcliff moment. Barbed appendage?” She snorted, trying to appear confident, but he knew she was more confused when she twisted the edge of the sheet that was bunched just above her breasts a few times before she shook her head and said, “Sorry.”

  “I think it’s safe to say we’re both confused. We’ve never had to do this before.”

  “Before? What before? You keep saying that you’ve missed me. Where have I been? And how come I don’t remember you?”

  Was it true? Could she possibly not remember any of their history? “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath and sprang off the bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  He barely heard her, as the idea came to him that he may have to explain things to her. All of it. Everything. Would she still want him? Or would this lifetime end as badly as the last?

  He pulled on his leathers and didn’t bother tying the laces as he went to the fire. Picking up a large log from the stack beside it, he carelessly threw the wood into the flames. The cinders erupted and jumped up around him like tiny fireflies, but he paid no attention to them.

  “Jack?”

  He was lost in thought and didn’t answer.

  “Jack, what I said about not remembering you? I wasn’t being totally truthful.”

  That got his attention. He spun back around. “What do you mean?”

  Finley shrugged, not sure how to explain, but she did acknowledge a strange need to be honest with him, so she offered, “When we were…you know,” she nodded in the direction of the infamous stains, “I had this feeling about us. About you. I felt safe and connected to you in some important way.”

  “And now?”

  He walked over and she gulped when he reached out to brush her bangs off her forehead. “I, um, have a hard time thinking when you’re near me,” she admitted.

  This seemed to please him. “That’s a good start, I suppose.”

  He stepped up on the platform and climbed around her to get back into the bed as he settled himself against the headboard. When he was done he patted the space next to him, and even though she had no idea why, she crawled over the few feet and joined him. Once she made herself comfortable, she was surprised at how warm and smooth the iron was against her back.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw how relaxed he was. How fricking handsome, as he casually laced his fingers together behind his head, and crossed one out-stretched leg over the other, saying, “Maybe we should start at the beginning, hm?”

  She was going to point out that it was a little late for that, but before she had the chance, he’d already begun to speak, “I think you need to know my history. Maybe hearing it will make things between us less unpredictable.”

  She nodded as that seemed reasonable enough. Besides, any information he had to impart would only add to the kickass article about him she was eventually going to write. Already she had her byline. A Brand New Breed of Alphahole for the Millennium. That got her thinking. She wasn’t going to write an expose’ on him, was she?

  “I’m not a vampire per se, I’m from a distant race of people, known as Vampine,” he emphasized that distinction and she wished she had her note pad. Because hells, yeah, she was writing this one up. “Hundreds of years ago, all Vam females were wiped out by another, more aggressive, culture. That left my race with little chance of survival unless we were granted rights to come here, to the forbidden world, and find our mates. I found you and through each of your lifetimes we reconnect.”

  She thought about that for a second and frowned as she determinedly stared at the paisley wallpaper. She could think better when she didn’t look at him. “Let me get this straight. You found a mate, me, and through something like the concept of reincarnation we’re able to reconnect, as you put, in all of my lifetimes because I die and you don’t or, do you?”

  “I’m too young to die.”

  Wow, how insulting. “And what? I’m old? I’m only twenty-three.”

  “You age as a human and I age as I am, Vampine.”

  Finley tried not to sound too incredulous, but seriously? “So, if that fantastic explanation is to be believed, you’re not only a vampire, but an alien one to boot?”

  She gauged his massive shoulders lift in a noncommittal shrug beside her, before he answered, “Vampire is your term, not mine. I prefer Vampine.”

  “What about alien?” she had to ask. This was getting richer by the minute.

  “Foreigner.”

  He was so adamant that she let her head fall sideways against the metal and deadpanned a look up at him. “Okay, do I really swallow this drivel every lifetime?”

  His eyes sparkled as he looked down. “Well, no, you’re usually busy swallowing something else.” As if his words weren’t crude enough, he shot a look down and so did she. The sizable bulge in his leather pants suddenly started expanding before her eyes. “But we can talk about that later. Now, where was I?”

  Tearing h
er gaze away, she gathered the sheet and tucked it around her, so he wouldn’t see her body’s traitorous reaction. Her breasts felt as if they were being erotically squeezed and that acute tingle was back between her legs. He was a dangerous devil and she was walking a fine line here. Best to keep him focused and talking while she tried to figure out what the hell she was going to do about this rapidly deteriorating lust-fueled situation. “Finding mates?” she reminded.

  “Yes. They granted us permission to come here to do that.”

  She sat up straighter. “Who are they?”

  “The council of all the worlds united. You see, once the Skarka’s, an aggressive race of warriors, invaded our lands and butchered all our women, procreation for my kind became impossible. We had no choice but to petition the council to grant us access to this world. It was the only way for our culture to survive.”

  Hm. Even if all this were true, she didn’t think that explained the deal about the soul thing, which really freaked her out. She’d been brought up to be a good Catholic girl. Well, she had been one, until she went through puberty, so she was positive those angelic years before thirteen had to count for something. “Let’s just say for the moment that I’m going to believe you on this…although why I would is a mystery to me. I mean, I keep expecting to wake up and I’m not even sure that I want to. That’s the worst part. But putting that aside for the moment, what’s the business about half my soul?”

  Jack ran a hand through his hair and hiked a brow at her. “Ah, still worried about eternal damnation, huh?” She wanted to deny it, but the sudden blush racing from her chest to her cheeks probably gave her away.

  Of course, it did. The bugger grinned when he said, “There’s no help for it, I’m afraid. You gifted me with it nearly five hundred years ago, babe, and that kind of a thing you really can’t give back.”

  “I see.” She tapped her index finger against her lips and thought about this. Reasoning was her strong suit so she put it to work now, deciding that she must have truly loved him. For a person to agree to willingly give up half of their soul was a monumental thing, wasn’t it? And being that she’d always felt that half of her was missing and that she was waiting for something special to happen to her—he definitely counted as special—she was going to err on the side of no caution and go with the alien vampire-Vampine theory. “Alrighty, how did we meet that first time?” She leaned back and examined the ceiling as she tried to imagine their story. This moment in time was nice. Calm. She actually felt at ease, as if right beside him was where she was always meant to be. “Was it love at first sight?”

  “Ah, that would be a huge negative. It most definitely was not,” he assured with a rueful chuckle that rumbled the bed.

  And before she knew it she was smiling at the appealing sound of his laugh. She was also beginning to see how a guy like him could have swept her off her feet. “Oh?”

  He bent a knee and rested his arm on it. “If I recall correctly, you were a scrappy bit of thing who didn’t have any time for the opposite sex. You were too busy working to support your family.”

  “Sounds noble, but not very romantic.”

  “You used to set the service for luncheon, in a house that looked very much like this one.”

  “I was a servant?” She groaned, “Great.”

  “Yes. You worked from dawn until dusk most days. Except on the holidays, which were few and far between back then. Your mother tried to do right by you. I used to hear her warning you to keep your thick hair hidden under your cap. More than once she took the time to remind you to keep those gorgeous blue eyes of yours downcast and demure.”

  This sounded like a kid’s pitiful childhood right out of a Dickens’ novel. Drawing in a large breath of air, she released it through her nose, and asked, “And did I?”

  “Mostly, but once you reached your teens, it didn’t matter anymore. There was no hiding that body. The old man in the house saw it. I used to seethe, watching that lecher’s eyes follow you. Before I knew it, I was stopping by the place on a regular basis just to check in on you.

  “Until one day, I stopped by and the old man was in a rage. It seemed that he’d spoken with your father and had somehow convinced him that you should move into the house to better, ah, serve him. He told me that he paid your parents a fair price for the privilege and when he informed you of the arrangement, you threatened him with bodily harm and then ran off. He was just getting ready to go and fetch you back when I showed up. I was much younger and quicker than him, so I gallantly offered to see to the task of chasing you down and returning you to him myself. He’d paid a fair bit of coin for you, after all. He was grateful for my assistance and even loaned me his prize horse to aid me in the task.”

  Finley was interested even if she had to remind herself not to call bullshit on him. Every time she thought to, something held her back until finally she was thinking, why not fall into this dream? He’d asked her to believe earlier and with each second that ticked by, she did. Not in her head. God, that part of her was telling her to step on the gas and get the fuck out of there, but it was with her heart, or maybe even a part of her she couldn’t quite name that was coaxing her to stay.

  And if she were going to do that she may as well be comfortable. She slid down in the bed and stretched out, with elbow bent and her chin resting in her palm as she faced him. “So you took his horse and rode straight to my home to beg my father for my hand in marriage? Did we live happily ever after once you got your half of me?”

  He shifted down on to his back, lying prone beside her. “Not quite. Oh, I did take his horse, because the guy may have been a sexual deviant, but he knew good horse flesh when he saw it. That damned horse turned out to be the best one I ever owned. It—”

  “Ohh-kay, so you’re on the horse?” she cut in, because now that she was staying, the last thing she wanted to hear about was a horse.

  “Yes. I rode all the way to your, um, home, only to find everyone gone. I called out to one of the nearby derelic...ah, I mean neighbors, asking where the family had gone and he told me the parents had up and left with the younger siblings that morning and when you came back that afternoon to find they had deserted you, you were devastated.”

  Finley eyes widened as she watched him casually lying there. “They left me? What a horrible story.”

  “You think?” He shifted his head and peered up at her. “Tell me about some of your history. How has your life been to date?”

  “I think good. Not great, but I’d guess it’s been average. It’s certainly not history repeating itself, if that’s what you’re thinking. No one has abandoned me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive, unless you consider death abandonment. My dad died when I was eight.”

  “What about your mother?”

  She smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, but she’s alive and well. I’ve seen her twice a year since I was fourteen.”

  His green eyes drilled into her. “Fourteen? Who did you live with so that your mother had to visit you twice a year?”

  “My aunt and uncle, who were nothing but kind to me.”

  “Why?” The gentle insistence in his tone bothered her.

  “Why what? Why did I live with them and not my mother?”

  He nodded, watchful and waiting as she worked out what to answer. “I don’t know. Right after my mother married Hank, they decided to move to Alaska. They were fighting a lot and they thought that if they went somewhere different, a fresh start would help, but...” She blinked.

  “But?”

  “They didn’t take me.”

  “No, and my guess would be that Hank had his eyes on you once you grew up— just like that old lecher had— and the only way your mother could protect you this time was to remove you from the equation. Do you ever see Hank?”

  “No,” she answered in a small voice, beginning to see the numerous parallels between the two situations. “Well, at least this lifetime isn’t as bad as the one you described.
That was a horrible thing to happen.” And here she was, already sounding like an expert on their past lives together. She shook her head over that.

  “Well, it could’ve been, but I haven’t finished telling you the rest of it. Do you want to hear how it wound up?”

  “Oh, yes, absolutely.”

  “After I discovered you were gone that day, I tracked you. By the time I found you that evening in your little makeshift camp in the woods, I was furious, but I tried to be patient. You were a belligerent bit of goods.” He scowled up at the ceiling, pursing his lips before he said, “It really was a trial, now that I think about it.”

  “I bet.”

  “But I digress. I took you to my summer house in Wales—”

  “Wait, are you telling me we were across the pond at that time?” The notion seemed so strange to her when it really shouldn’t have. After all, being in England was less bizarre than possibly believing all this.

  “Of course. There really was no other place to be in the 1600’s. If you wanted to live past twenty, that is. Anyway, we stayed there until you, ah, came around.”

  What she called her reporter Lois Lane levers were cranking up a good speed. They always did when something didn’t sound right and that pronouncement? Well, she didn’t like the sound of it. Not one bit. “May I have some specifics, please?”

  “Sure,” he said too cheerfully, and for some reason, she got the feeling she would regret asking for the details. Sometimes throwing a wrench into those speeding levers came with a downside. “I couldn’t very well bring you into my household as a servant and then take you as wife. At the time, that wasn’t done. Personally, I think Bronte had a hand in cracking that convention.” A downside, like right now. She rolled her eyes. “So I installed you in the guest cottage on the northeast end of the estate.”

  Now her eyes narrowed on him.

  “What? Oh, not to worry, you weren’t complaining… after a while, that is,” he muttered this last part under his breath.

  “Excuse me?” If she wasn’t mistaken, he suddenly looked uncomfortable and, on a guy like him, that was a whole lot of discomfort.